Midnight Rose
by Yoshiyuki Ly
Summary: Harley realizes she's become Ivy's most precious rose—her exception. A play on the conjugation of 'rise'. Harley/Ivy.


**Author's Note **– This is just a one-shot. I know there is a possibility for a continuation here. But no, I'm sorry. Not going to happen.

**Disclaimer **– I don't own Batman or any of its constituents.

_You thought you could plead with him. Rise against him, and convince him to stop. You don't bargain with him—you do as he says. And now he says to rise, rise, RISE. The joke's on you, Harley…_

A shove: tumbling horizontal for a splintered second, with balance forsaken in a cacophony of cackling and her own screams; lost searching for found in the sounds, found in her ejection from the lofty edifice and out into the ink sheen of light-dark, of Gotham's hours of darkness. Ejected in rejection, spelled by the percussion of glass-fall splintering her divided spine in crimson and night, in red and black, in two, in four, multiplying in the moonlit disintegration. A plunge, so sudden in its efficacy, so deep in its snatch of control, she embodied incongruous arousal.

Harley's free-fall cleaved the night air in revolutions, polluting the invisible friction with shards ever-multiplying, with cherry droplets, shreds of skin, costume and confidence. Even in her ruin, she reached above with an unsteady hand, desiring to clasp those cackles and mold them into a parachute, a way to turn the world upside-down and take her back to whom she belonged—_something. _Her prowess on foot, a miscommunication with her imagined aptitude in the air after her failure. How fitting for her to descend into the empty vert after her attempt to preserve Red's limited peace.

Mistah Jay thought he could break into the largest, leading biochemical lab in Gotham, rough it up, and take over the city with his new hazardous toys. Harley knew she was wrong for trying, but she just had to tell him no—Red would never forgive her if she sided with Puddin' on this one. Let down, that's what Red would have been. Harley's warped sense of wrong from worst shoved her, not Mistah Jay, never him…he only taught her a lesson—a lesson in flying. No point in getting all schmaltzy while still falling, still failing. Harley knew she could grow wings for him, if she tried, tried…through the wounds, the vertigo, the madness, she could. Some kind of chemical reaction, through her hysteria and uselessness. Or maybe Red could help, as payback for getting Harley into trouble, if she cared enough…

Hope, colored night, colored moon, quicksilver; green when she thought of Red, strong when she swore she felt Red. Harley knew where she was with—the sky, falling. Whispers of earth and greenery grew from far-off murmurs, to closer iterations, to nearby vociferous stretches of effort to grow and reach. As if floor collapses floated up to catch Harley in her shock, yards of foliage and fauna succeeded in cradling her, breaking her fall three stories from the ground. Nature's embrace, shielding her; reminding her:

As she lay upon her back and felt the curative Aloe Vera soothe her, she saw her reminder float down to her, crisscrossing under the moon unto her. Harley's remaining strength allowed her to reach up with purpose this time, allowing the stem free of thorns to fall into her weak hold. A rose, she inspected with wilting eyes. A scarlet rose, half-colored in shadow, full of suggested meaning, reaching Harley in its entirety as she smelled the gossamer folds. The suggestion warmed her as whispers below lowered her to safety, shielding her in a verdant perfume she tasted in her throat stitched with sentimentality.

_Ivy…_

—

In the white darkness of the sterile laboratory, Ivy's swings at the Joker hissed of toxins as she missed, missed, kept missing. She only managed to whiff the stench of his laughter as he backed away. Scientific instruments, counters; cabinets suffered her wrath, not him. Glass illumined black—not his jaw—defaced her knuckles and shins. Not enough force, not her targets, not worth fretting over.

He crossed the line with this plan, and payback was a landing away. Ivy struck blind in the silver night of the building, as she was. Seeing red in the dark, hearing green in his reek. She refused to let him take a stab at her by harming the environment, even if he claimed it had nothing to do with her.

Robberies, killings, hostages, ransoms, torture, humiliation—these things, from the Joker, she accepted. This scheme of his lured her right in, and here she was, losing. His shot at killing Harley yet again made her veins seethe in acid, in assiduous anger at her failure to stop this lunacy. Her ire overjoyed him, but inaction was out of the question for Ivy.

Winded. Ivy was winded. Still trying, still going. The Joker slowed his dodging, mirroring her sluggishness, "Oh Ivy, you always manage to _fail _EVERY time I plan something just for you! Won't you ever learn to stay _out _of my _business?—" _Argument accented by his snatching slap across her face, her cry of defeat. The Joker giggled and hooted, slapping the other side of her face, then the first, the other in succession, over and over again. "—THERE!"

Joker punched Ivy, making her stumble back and skid over the cold floor. The rising twinge in her head was unbearable, yet she tried to sit up anyway. Ivy's glare from behind the falls of her hair did nothing to tame his glee. Not even her words laced in her ache, "You'll pay for this…I _swear _it!" His movements were unhurried as he moved to kneel right in front of her. "I won't tolerate this anymore, Joker," she heaved, "you've gone too far! I'm sick of your games!"

"Ohhh," he crooned, cupping her chin and puckering her lips, "that's too bad…I thought this one was _sure _to have you screaming in delight!" A vicious shake of her head had their faces millimeters apart. "You're losing your _touch_, Itch," he warned, standing, bringing Ivy with him; choking her while she tried to grab his wrists, "so let's do somethin' about it! What do you say, hm? I think…maybe, just maybe…" Ivy's weight vanished only for a moment, soon bearing down on her, betraying her, and there was no use in struggling, "…we should have a little contest! And it all has to do…with a certain…" Gravity worked harder against her. "…Harleen…" And harder… "…_Quinzel_…"

The mention of that name through that stench insulted her, gave her the strength to croak out, "What…about Harley…?—"

A flapping sound and something sheathing the air made the hand choking her let go. Ivy sank to her knees, nursing her neck while the Joker shook out his hand. She didn't need to look up to verify the identity of their visitor.

Jubilant, the Joker faced the masked guest, arms outstretched, "Welcome, welcome! So wonderful of you to join us! I was wondering when you'd show!"

The Batman ignored him, "Harley needs you," he spoke to Ivy. Her head snapped up to meet his gaze. "The feds are on their way. I'll handle Joker. Go, now!"

"Hey now, Bat!" growled Joker as Ivy did her best to stand. "Who put you in charge? I call the shots around here! Besides," he laughed, "if Harley needs _anyone, _it's me!"

Time was of the essence, and Ivy had none to waste. Though she craved to put the Clown Prince in his place, the far-off sounds of sirens reminded her of more pressing matters. She hurried out of the building, leaving Batman and Joker to fight alone. Ivy was glad for the chance to escape; angry that she needed it to begin with.

—

_Was this the end?_

Delirium convinced Harley she was a goner. The murky obscurity from her closed eyes, her inability to move, the odd comfort she felt—all signs that said she was done for. Nonsensical, yes. Probable, maybe. Correct…probably not.

The familiarity she felt about her surroundings eased Harley out of her disorientation. She felt a shirt and shorts on her person, not her costume while she lay upon a bed. Vegetation, fauna, and other varied plant-life embraced her from afar—she had to be at Red's hideout. When she opened her eyes, she saw Ivy standing by her side, looking forlorn. Harley reached up and caught that head of red hair in a firm embrace, relieved.

"Oh, Red!" sighed Harley, squeezing their faces together, "You saved me! You broke my fall! I mean who else coulda brought up ALL those plants, just to save little ol' me? My hero!"

Ivy scowled due to lack of oxygen, prying herself free, "It was no trouble, Harls. Really."

"Hey," drawled Harley, holding Red about the waist when she thought she could walk away, "what's the matter with you, huh? You ain't the one who got pushed offa buildin' who knows when ago! I'm tryna thank you here!"

Ivy was curt, "You're welcome." She tried to move away, but to no avail. Harley frowned at her. "Fine. You want to know what my problem is? You know damn well that clown of yours is the one to blame!"

"My clown…?" asked Harley, frowning more in her recollection. "Oh, you know my puddin'…he was just…" Her heart wasn't in this explanation. There was no fooling Red, either. Ivy folded her arms, tapping her foot. "Alright, alright…so he pushed it real hard that time! I tried to stop Mistah Jay, Red, I did! I don't remember what we was doin' in there! All I knew was it had to be bad news for you!"

"So you tried to defend me," concluded Ivy, "and almost got yourself killed in the process. Lovely. Because news like that _really _darkens my nights, truly!" She pushed Harley from her, taking a few paces in the other direction. "Sometimes I wonder why I even bother caring at all…"

Harley wilted. She tried to be a good friend to Red, she really did, but that last line dug right into her. What did she do wrong? Nothing felt wrong, but lately nothing felt right either. Mistah Jay was never satisfied with Harley for too long before he pushed, punched—or shoved—her away again. So she tried harder and harder, but nothing worked like it did in the old days. Still, she wasn't about to give up all because of a few little bumps in the road.

And then there was Red, standing by her plants. Her plants that would always mean more to her than Harley.

"Red…didja mean that?" she sniffed. Ivy tensed. "You care about me a whole lot if you saved me in the nick of time the way you did!" Harley wailed, "You didn't mean that—you didn't! Say it ain't so!—"

"_No more,"_ hissed Ivy, whipping about to face her. "Games, hints; beating around the _bush."_ Harley looked on in fear, in concern while Red sauntered back to her. "You would debase yourself for that—that _thing_—when you _know_ you're better than that…" Close proximity renewed, Ivy bent down, curling her back, capturing Harley's face in the palm of her hand. Magmatic touch. Warm breath. Severe gaze. "We both know…you deserve more. Your blindness disturbs me. Alas…"

Their faces grew proximal still, assailing Harley with signal after signal that Red was _serious. _Heady propinquity; the possible, further descent, one she couldn't refuse. Ivy licked her own lips, dotting Harley's long enough to drive the point home—down, between her legs.

"…there is no cure for mad love. I still **refuse** to accept this fate."

Harley's earlier disorientation nearly took over again, until she noticed Red moving away. Again. "Hey-hey! Just where d'you think you're goin'?"

Ivy raised an eyebrow, standing properly, "Excuse me? This is _my _hideout. I come and go as I please."

"No, Red, I ain't talkin' about that!" she pouted, sitting up. "After all that stuff you just told me, you wanna walk away like you ain't said nothin'?"

"Oh? I can't imagine you being moved by any of it," remarked Ivy, ignoring Harley's frustration. "Also, I have some business to attend to tonight. There's to be a gala held at one of the hotels downtown, of before and after photographs of land that was taken over by an upscale mall not too long ago. As you know, this is my area of expertise. I need to go pay my respects to the landowners, you see…"

"Well I'm goin' too!" announced Harley. Red narrowed her eyes, waiting for her to go on. "What's that look for? I owe ya one for the plants. I ain't lettin' you outta my sight, either. Not for long!"

Ivy smirked, "Stalking me, are you? My, my, Harls, I think you've outdone yourself this time! What _ever _will I do with you tonight, if you won't leave my side?"

"I'll let you be the boss 'a that," Harley smirked back. "Be my guest!" She could have her fun with Red tonight, until it was time to go home to Mistah Jay—or—not. Maybe…maybe not, this time. "Dress me up real nice and we'll paint the town red! You wait 'n see! Those landowners'll have your roots and my foot up their asses before they can say 'shit gold bricks'!"


End file.
